


Love Remains the Same

by slf630



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 18:17:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15757134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slf630/pseuds/slf630
Summary: Steve visits Bucky will he's healing in Wakanda.





	Love Remains the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Love Remains the Same by Gavin Rossdale. Not beta'd, all mistakes are mine.

Steve’s heart skips a beat when he gets the call.  
  
T’Challa doesn’t say much – Steve doubts he ever does – but he really doesn’t need to. Steve knows that he wouldn’t call for no reason.  
  
Ditching Sam, Nat and Wanda is surprisingly easier than Steve thought it’d be. They’ve been on the run a few months now, sticking together, making sure to have each others backs. He thinks maybe they might need some time off themselves, a chance to not have to worry about being fugitives. At least that’s what it seems like with Wanda. She headed off on her own before Steve even got the call. He feels bad not telling them where he’s going and why but, for as close as they are and for as much as he loves them and owes them, there are just some things he needs to keep for himself. This is one of those things. He knows he could tell them, knows that they’d be understanding and supportive, and he almost has a few times, but he just never seems to be able to find the right words. Deep down, he has a bit of a sneaking suspicion that Sam and Nat already know anyway, but neither of them will bring it up unless he does first. Maybe someday he’ll have the courage to tell the only other people he’s close to the truth but for now he can’t. Besides, it’s not just his story to tell.  
  
T’Challa meets Steve outside with a smile and a handshake. It’s just the two of them, which Steve appreciates – he thinks that T’Challa probably knows more than he’s letting on as well but thankfully he also doesn’t say anything about it. T’Challa presses a hand to Steve’s shoulder, gently urging him to walk.  
  
“Thanks again for the call,” Steve says quietly as they walk along the countryside of Wakanda, getting further and further away from the palace.  
  
“Of course, Captain Rogers,” T’Challa replies easily, glancing at him. “I thought that you would like to know as soon as possible.”  
  
“Yes, definitely.” Steve pauses, takes a slow, deep breath, lets it out even slower. “So, he’s…” he trails off, not sure what to ask or even how to ask it.  
  
“He is well,” T’Challa fills in. “He has been resting for a little over a day.” T’Challa stops and turns to Steve, his eyes and tone soft, kind. “My sister was able to deprogram him,” he goes on. “He is still a bit confused, still putting things together but he will continue to get better and better over time.”  
  
Steve lets out a breath he wasn’t even aware that he was holding, a bit of the weight he carries on his shoulders seeming to lessen. “That’s great. Thank you. Again,” he adds, chuckling softly.  
  
“Of course,” T’Challa agrees with a nod. “What was done to your friend, it was terrible. As I said, he was a victim. I am glad we were able to help,” he goes on as they start walking again.  
  
They stop a few feet outside a hut and T’Challa once again turns to Steve. “I did not inform Sergeant Barnes of your arrival. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise for him.” Steve nods, unable to stop a smile from curling up his lips. He’s so anxious and nervous, which is kind of ridiculous all things considered. It’s just that it’s been so long since they’ve just been Steve and Bucky, he honestly has no idea how this is even going to go. “You may stay as long as you wish, Captain. And if there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to ask,” T’Challa adds with a smile of his own. “Now, go on,” he urges, jerking his chin toward the hut.  
  
Steve nods again but he doesn’t move right away. He _can’t_. His heart feels like it is about to pound right out of his chest. He watches T’Challa as he walks away, stands frozen until he can no longer see the Wakandan king, then he turns back to the hut.  
  
His breath catches in his throat when he finds himself staring at Bucky. Tears sting his eyes and his whole body _aches_ with the need to be close, to _touch_ , but he still can’t seem to find the strength to move. It’s only been a few months but it feels like another lifetime has passed between them. Bucky looks… soft, at peace even though Steve can still see a bit of exhaustion in his eyes.  
  
For a moment they just stare at each other, Bucky’s head tilted just slightly to the side and Steve has just enough time to wonder if this was the right thing, if coming here was selfish of him, but then Bucky smiles, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners and Steve suddenly feels like he can breathe again, _truly breathe_ , for the first time in more than seventy years.  
  
“Surprise,” he manages to choke out around the lump in his throat.  
  
“Ya just gonna stand there all day?” Bucky asks quietly, still smiling, that same soft look in his eyes that Steve _lived_ for when they were kids.  
  
_That_ finally breaks whatever was holding him back.  
  
He quickly crosses the distance between them, closes his eyes as soon as their chests touch, his arms automatically circling around Bucky, a sense of peace that he hasn’t felt in _so long_ settling over him, in his heart, down to his very soul. Bucky wraps his arm around Steve in return and it feels like coming _home_.  
  
Even though Steve didn’t see anyone else around he forces himself to pull away much sooner than he would like. He keeps a hand on Bucky’s shoulder though, can’t make himself let go completely not just yet at least. Bucky presses his hand against Steve’s chest, right over his heart, tilts his head just barely towards the hut behind them. Steve nods and finally lets go, following right on Bucky’s heels as he turns and enters what Steve assumes is his home. He doesn’t even look around, instantly turns to Bucky once they’re inside. Bucky is leaning back against the wall, an emotion that Steve can’t name flashing in Bucky’s deep blue eyes as he stares back at Steve. Whatever that look is, it twists his stomach and Steve can’t help but wonder again if he shouldn’t have come here, if maybe Bucky wouldn’t be better off if he didn’t.  
  
Before he can open his lips to apologize like he suddenly wants to, Bucky beats him to it. “Not that this isn’t a nice surprise, but… what’re you doin’ here, Steve?” he asks softly.  
  
“I… I’m sorry,” Steve damn-near whispers, fingers curling into fists at his sides. The urge to touch is still there, still just as strong, and holding back is taking all the strength he has. “T’Challa called and said you were awake and he thought I’d like to come see you… I should’a had him check with you first…” He never really felt like he deserved Bucky’s friendship, his support, his love, when they were growing up, always felt like he was _less_. Standing here right now, he feels like that again and it _hurts_. “I can go if you want,” he adds around the lump in his throat.  
  
“I didn’t say that,” Bucky replies, tone still soft. He inhales deeply, exhales slowly. “I guess I just… I didn’t expect you to come.”  
  
“How could I not?” Steve blurts out without thinking.  
  
“Well, with everything that happened…”  
  
“No,” Steve cuts him off, takes a step closer. “Don’t do that.”  
  
“I meant what I said on the jet, Steve.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don’t know that I’m worth all this.”  
  
Hearing those words for a second time nearly rips Steve’s heart out.  
  
He closes the rest of the distance between them, stops close enough to touch but holds back. Barely. “You are to me,” he replies, finally saying what he _should_ have said that day in the quinjet on the way to Siberia.  
  
Bucky closes his eyes, tilts his chin down, shakes his head. “Steve…”  
  
“No,” Steve repeats, soft but firm. “It’s always been you and me. And it always _will_ be. ‘til the end of the line, right?” Bucky huffs softly, shakes his head again. Steve can’t _not_ touch him, not anymore, not like this, not while his best friend, the love of his life, is so obviously hurting. He reaches up, cups both sides of Bucky’s face, tips his head down, his forehead pressing against Bucky’s temple. “Right?” he whispers.  
  
“There’s just been so much…”  
  
“I know, Buck,” Steve murmurs. He tilts his head, the tip of his nose brushing against the rise of Bucky’s cheekbone, one hand sliding back, his fingers sinking into Bucky’s hair. He’s never been able to do that and he has to admit that he likes it, the way the soft strands feel between his fingers. He cradles the back of Bucky’s head, steps in just the tiniest bit closer, their chests pressing together. “It’s all gonna be okay,” he adds. He just hopes that if he believes it hard enough for both of them that it’ll come true.  
  
Bucky clears his throat and lifts his head, looks straight into Steve’s eyes. “After _everything_ , how can you say that? How can you still believe it? I tried to kill you… I shot you! Several times.”  
  
“Why’d you pull me out of that river?”  
  
“What?” Bucky asks incredulously, brow furrowed in confusion.  
  
“That day, when we were fighting…”  
  
“I know what you’re talking about, Steve,” Bucky cuts him off, frowning. “What I don’t get is why the hell you’re asking about it, especially considering I already answered you in Bucharest.”  
  
“You said you didn’t know,” Steve points out quietly. “I think maybe you do.”  
  
Bucky huffs, shakes his head. “It’s still kinda hazy,” he starts softly. “I remember the fight, I remember your stupid ass dropping your shield… Then you refusing to fight, the things you were saying… I don’t know, Steve,” he sighs. “I guess I was starting to remember. After the fight on the bridge, when you first said my name… I started remembering then too. Until they wiped my brain again…”  
  
“Rumlow,” Steve grits out, his jaw clenching almost enough to hurt.  
  
“Who? What?”  
  
“I doubt you knew him by name but he was supposed to be part of SHIELD, part of the team I worked with, but he was actually part of Hydra. When we were in Lagos, the fight that set off the whole Accords thing, he said he was there that day, when they refried your brain. He said… He said that you remembered me and it caught me so off guard… He knew it would rattle me and it did.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Steve.”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Bucky. None of this is. That’s what I keep trying to make you see. Yes, we fought, but it wasn’t _you_. And you ended up saving me, even though you still didn’t remember everything. So that’s why I can say that it’s all gonna be okay. I _have_ to believe it.” He pauses, smiles softly. “It wasn’t you,” he repeats.  
  
“But it was,” Bucky argues softly.  
  
“No, it was Hydra and what they did to you,” Steve argues right back. “But Shuri _fixed_ that, man.”  
Bucky shakes his head, looks to the side, his jaw clenching. Steve knows that look. “What?” he urges softly. Bucky – stubborn as always – shakes his head again. “C’mon, what?”  
  
“I’m scared, Steve,” Bucky whispers, eyes sad, a little wet, when he looks back at Steve.  
  
It catches Steve off guard. Even during the war, all the shit they went through, Bucky was never afraid of anything. The only other time he saw fear in Bucky’s eyes was when he fell, when Steve wasn’t fast enough, strong enough, _good_ enough, to save him. He failed Bucky then, he’ll be damned if he ever does so again.  
  
“It’s okay,” Steve rasps, throat once again tight with emotion. “I’m here, I got’cha.” He tips his head again, forehead resting against Bucky’s. “Me and you,” he breathes.  
  
“’til the end’a the line,” Bucky finishes.  
  
“’til the end’a the line,” Steve agrees quietly.  
  
They stand there, forehead to forehead, chest to chest, holding each other for a few long minutes, just breathing, just being. Then Bucky slides his hand up over Steve’s shoulder, sinks his fingers into Steve’s own longer than usual hair. “Kinda likin’ the new look, Cap,” Bucky teases, gently tugging on the strands.  
  
Steve chuckles softly, the pressure in his chest letting up a bit. “Yeah well, life on the run, ya know? Not much time for a hair cut.” Bucky turns his head, their cheeks rubbing together. “Or a shave,” Steve adds, suddenly self conscious about the beard he’s grown, about the longer hair, about everything. How can one person make someone so strong feel so weak?  
  
Bucky’s whole body goes tense and he tries to pull away but Steve can’t let him go, not now that they’re this close again, after all this time. “Don’t, please?” he begs softly.  
  
“See? That’s what I meant, Steve,” Bucky huffs.  
  
Steve pulls his head back just enough to be able to look into Bucky’s eyes. “What?”  
  
“You’re on the run… Captain America, a freakin’ fugitive, because of _me_ ,” Bucky grits out. Steve is so dumbfounded that Bucky actually manages to wiggle away from him. Steve turns, watches him pace across the room, a million words sitting on the tip of his tongue but for some reason nothing will come out. “You should’a just let ‘em have me, Steve. You should’a stayed with your team, should’a done the right thing.”  
  
“I _did_ do the right thing,” Steve snaps.  
  
“No, you didn’t,” Bucky argues, turning once again to face Steve. “You should’ve sided with Stark, with your friends…”  
  
“No, damnit,” Steve huffs. He pauses, takes a few deep breaths. “Look, the stuff with Tony, with the others… We were already falling apart before I came after you.”  
  
“But maybe if it wasn’t for me you could’ve fixed things with them…”  
  
“If it’s a choice between _anyone_ and you, I’m gonna choose you. I always have.”  
  
“I’m not worth it, Steve!” Bucky half-shouts.  
  
“You are to me!” Steve shouts right back. He’ll keep reminding Bucky of that every day for the rest of their lives if that’s what it takes.  
  
For a few long, charged seconds they stand staring at each other. He’s not sure what comes over him but Steve crosses the small room in two large steps and grabs the sides of Bucky’s face, leans in and crashes their lips together. The kiss is nearly violent, nothing like the sweet, stolen kisses from when they were kids, and it’s over in a matter of a heartbeat or two. They pull back at the same time but Steve keeps his hold on Bucky’s face, looks deep into his eyes. “You are to me,” he repeats, barely above a whisper. “You mean _everything_ to me, Buck. God, why can’t you see that?”  
  
“I don’t deserve it,” Bucky whispers back, his eyes glimmering, that small, sad smile once again curling up his lips. “I don’t deserve _you_.”  
  
Oh how the tables have turned. Steve spent _so long_ feeling that way, even after the serum, after becoming Captain America. Things have never been easy for them, between them. They fell in love – or well, _Steve_ did; he never _really_ believed that Bucky could possibly feel the same for _him_ – back when it wasn’t right for two men to love each other. And things had just begun to change between them – stolen kisses in the middle of the night while still trying to pretend during the day – when Bucky got his orders and had to ship out. They never talked about it at the time, of course and there hasn’t been a time for them to try since. Hell, Steve doesn’t even know _how_ to have that conversation. But he _does_ know that now really isn’t the time to try.  
  
“You’re an idiot,” he whispers softly, fondly.  
  
“And you’re still a punk,” Bucky whispers back with a roll of his eyes, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  
  
Steve smiles in return, leans in and knocks their foreheads together. He lingers for just a few seconds before making himself pull away. “I don’t wanna fight. Okay? Can we not, please?”  
  
Bucky nods once, the set of his shoulders relaxing when he lets out a long, deep breath. “I don’t wanna fight either,” he agrees. “So,” Bucky goes on after a few slightly awkward seconds as he turns, leaning back against the small table set against the wall, blue eyes a little guarded still as he glances at Steve, “how long you in town for?”  
  
“A few days, a week? Maybe? Guess that, uh, kinda depends on you.”  
  
“On me?” Bucky asks, finally looking directly at Steve again.  
  
“Well, yeah. I mean, if you don’t want me here…”  
  
“Now who’s the idiot?” Bucky cuts him off with a smirk, shaking his head. But that cocky smirk fades quickly. He sighs, his brow furrowing. “It never was this… difficult, before, was it?” he asks softly after a few more of those awkward, silent moments.  
  
“No, not really. Not like this,” Steve agrees. He closes his eyes for a second, gathers all the strength and courage he can muster, then once again crosses the small room, stops right in front of Bucky. “It doesn’t have to be,” he adds quietly, his heart pounding in his chest.  
  
“What d’ya mean?”  
  
“It’s us,” Steve reasons with a shrug of one shoulder. “No matter how much time has passed, no matter what’s happened, it’s still… us.”  
  
“You really think it’s that simple?”  
  
“It can be.”  
  
Bucky nods, a quick jerk of his chin. The thing is, Steve really means it. No matter what’s come before, they’re still them. Sure, they’re not the kids they used to be, but deep down in their core, they’re still the same, for the most part. Steve has to believe that, there’s just no other option. In his heart, his _soul_ , he knows Bucky, knows every look, every shift of muscle. He has to believe that beneath The Winter Soldier is _his_ Bucky, the only constant in his life.  
  
“So, a few days or so, huh?” Bucky reaches out, his hand settling on Steve’s waist. Steve can merely nod in reply. “Is that T’Challa’s rule or…”  
  
“Sam and Nat,” Steve blurts out. Bucky grins at him – God, he looks just like he did back then, eyes dancing, crinkling at the corners – and Steve huffs, feels his cheeks heat. Wow, if everyone could see him now, big, tough Captain America _blushing_ over a boy. But then again, he’s not Captain America anymore, now is he? Well, either way, he sure as hell isn’t right now, not here, not like this. “I’ve been with them and Wanda,” he finally manages to make his brain and mouth work together enough to explain. “They, uh, they don’t know I’m here.”  
  
“I’m glad you have them, Steve. I’m glad you’re not alone.”  
  
“I’d rather be with you,” Steve admits quietly. “I hate the thought of you here, by yourself.”  
  
“I’m not,” Bucky counters, his smile soft, nearly serene. “T’Challa’s people have been really nice. There are usually a dozen or so kids running around outside, chasing after the goats. I’m guessing he probably told everyone to get lost, give us some time.” He pauses, takes a slow, deep breath. “It’s… peaceful here. Right now, I kinda like the solitude. I’m still a little hazy about some things, the quiet helps me think.” His fingers tighten around Steve’s waist. “That doesn’t mean I want you to leave,” he adds before Steve can say anything. “Okay?” he asks, brows raised.  
  
“Yeah, okay. Jerk.”  
  
Bucky huffs out a soft chuckle, rolls his eyes fondly. “I’ve missed you, Steve.”  
  
Steve’s heart feels kind of like it slams into his ribcage. He shuffles closer, slides his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, their chests _almost_ touching. “I’ve missed you too, Buck,” he breathes.  
  
Bucky licks his lips, his hand sliding around Steve, pressing against the small of his back. Steve feels that touch like a live wire through his whole body. When they were younger, just kind of starting to explore things, they never went very far. Some kissing, a bit of making out, kid stuff really. Bucky of course had experience while Steve didn’t but it was never really about that. Just kissing another man at the time was so taboo, something that was _never_ spoken about, even if it did happen, so the thought of going any further, especially at first, never really entered Steve’s mind. Things are different now though, the whole world is different. The thing is, _Steve_ isn’t different though. He still has no experience.  
  
“You’re shaking,” Bucky whispers, his arm tightening around Steve slightly. He’s never felt so safe in his entire life even though he’s kind of a little terrified right now.  
  
“I’m fine,” Steve tries his best to make it sound convincing but he misses the mark by a mile.  
  
“C’mon, don’t do that. Talk to me.” Steve huffs, leans forward and buries his face in the curve of Bucky’s neck, his eyes squeezing closed. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” Steve replies softly. Unable to stop himself, he pushes closer, nuzzles under Bucky’s jaw, inhaling deeply. Bucky smells just like he remembers. It settles something in him. “Just… nervous, I guess,” he admits quietly. He’s honestly never felt so weak. Which is a real feat all things considered.  
  
“No need to be,” Bucky assures him, just as quietly. “’s just me.”  
  
“Yeah, that, uh, that’s kinda the reason why ‘m nervous.”  
  
“It’s just _us_ ,” Bucky amends. He slides his hand up Steve’s back, grips the nape of his neck. “This doesn’t have to go anywhere, Steve,” he adds, tone so soft, so full of love, that it makes Steve ache.  
  
“What if… what if I want it to?” Steve whispers.  
  
“Then it’ll only go as far as you want it to.” Bucky turns his head, his lips brushing against Steve’s ear. “You know I’d never push you, or hurt you…” Bucky trails off, a bit of tension creeping back into his frame and Steve _knows_ what he’s thinking, even without looking at him.  
  
“I know you’d never,” Steve replies, soft but firm. He forces himself to pull away from the safety of his hiding spot in the crook of Bucky’s shoulder, looks into his eyes. “I _trust_ you,” he adds pointedly, pressing one hand against Bucky’s chest, over his heart.  
  
For a split second he can see the urge to argue in Bucky’s eyes but it passes quickly and Bucky smiles, slides his hand up, fingers once again sinking into Steve’s hair. “I really do like the new look,” Bucky states quietly.  
  
_God_ but he can make Steve feel like a freaking school girl with her first crush – or, ya know, a school boy in his case – all warm and gooey inside.  
  
“Can I kiss you?” Bucky whispers.  
  
“You never have to ask,” Steve whispers back.  
  
Bucky smiles – one of those beautiful, sunshine smiles that just make Steve melt – and gently urges Steve forward, his palm cradling the back of Steve’s head. When their lips meet this time, it’s soft, sweet, gentle, nearly exactly the way Steve remembers. He closes his eyes and melts into it, melts into Bucky, their bodies pressed together. Bucky breaks the kiss after a few long, glorious minutes, presses their foreheads together. “Steve…”  
  
“Buck,” Steve breathes in response.  
  
Bucky groans – and, wow, _that_ sound goes right through Steve’s entire body, makes him shiver – and pulls him impossibly closer, lips brushing together again and again. “I ever tell you it drives me _crazy_ when you call me that?” Bucky whispers against Steve’s lips.  
  
“No,” Steve whispers back. “But now that I know…”  
  
Bucky chuckles softly – that groan may have sent shockwaves through Steve but the sound of Bucky’s laughter is still his favorite sound in the whole world. “I was right, still such a punk,” he teases, words smearing against Steve’s lips.  
  
Before Steve can think of a reply – he’s a little distracted, his brain more like mush at the moment – Bucky tilts his head just so, the tip of his tongue swiping across Steve’s bottom lip, then nudging against the seam. Steve moans softly as his lips part, the kiss deepening, their tongues twisting together. His knees honest to God go weak and he leans heavier against Bucky’s chest, one hand sliding into the soft stands of Bucky’s hair, other hand dropping to Bucky’s waist, fingers curling into a fist in the fabric of his shirt. He’s shaking again – or still, he honestly isn’t sure – and he really doesn’t know how much longer his legs are going to hold him up.  
  
Even though he really doesn’t want to, Steve forces himself to pull away, his chest heaving slightly, eyes still closed, his forehead pressed against Bucky’s. He meant what he said, he wants this, wants _more_ , but he’s at a complete loss as to what to do, once again feeling that same flash of self doubt he struggled with off and on for his entire long life. “Bucky,” he whispers, not sure what else, if anything, he planned to say other than Bucky’s name. It’s easy to fall back on what he knows, what he always did, turning to Bucky, his one constant, when nothing else makes sense, when he’s lost and afraid.  
  
“It’s okay,” Bucky whispers back, his hand sliding into Steve’s hair, palming the back of his head. “I’m here, Steve, it’s okay.”  
  
Despite the way his heart is pounding and his stomach is quivering, Steve can’t help but smile. More than seventy years later and Bucky is still looking out for him, still trying his best to take care of him, even though Steve tried so hard to convince them both that he didn’t need it. Which is just as much of a lie now as it was back then. The truth is, he’s always needed Bucky, even though there where times that he wished that he didn’t, that things were more equal between them.  
  
Bucky tilts his head just slightly, gently kisses the corner of Steve’s lips. “Why don’t we sit down,” Bucky suggests. “Talk, catch up… whatever.”  
  
Sitting down sounds like an awesome idea but Steve’s kind of afraid of the idea of talking, worried that they’ll somehow end up arguing again about things that they can’t change, even if Steve wishes they could.  
  
Steve loosens his hold, lets Bucky pull away from him. When he opens his eyes, Bucky is staring at him, another one of those unreadable looks in his steel blue eyes. It hurts to think that maybe he _doesn’t_ know Bucky – _this_ Bucky – all that well anymore. It lasts just a split second before Bucky smiles again but it was long enough for Steve to see it, for it to tear through his heart.  
  
“C’mon,” Bucky urges quietly, holding out his hand.  
  
Steve nods, a quick jerk of his chin, and slips his hand into Bucky’s. For the first time Steve really takes a look around the small hut. There isn’t much, just the table Bucky was leaning against, a single chair and a mat piled with soft looking swatches of colorful fabric. They both kind of stall out, not moving, seemingly both realizing at the same time that there’s a distinct lack of places to actually sit.  
  
“Shit, sorry,” Bucky mutters. “You can have the chair…” That weird, awkward tension is starting to seep back in and it’s the last thing Steve wants. He takes a deep, steadying breath and walks toward the mat in the corner, gently tugging Bucky with him by their still-joined hands. “Steve…”  
  
Steve doesn’t respond, not right away. He sits down, surprised by how soft the bed actually is. Looking up at Bucky takes nearly every ounce of his strength but he manages, flashes his best friend a smile, tugs on his hand again. Bucky sighs but lets Steve pull him down, leaving them sitting side by side, hips pressed together, their hands still clasped together. Steve turns slightly, just enough to be able to look at Bucky, gently squeezing his hand. Bucky’s looking right back at him, his brow furrowed a bit as he searches Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t know what Bucky’s looking for or what he sees, but a slight frown pulls down the corners of his lips.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Bucky asks quietly.  
  
“Nothing. Why?”  
  
“You got that look.”  
  
“What look?”  
  
“I don’t… I don’t know, man. It’s kinda this cross between lost, stubborn and like you’re about to do something stupid.”  
  
Steve huffs out a barely-there chuckle and shakes his head, free hand coming up to rub at his jaw, still not used to feeling the beard even though he’s been growing it for a few weeks now. He drops his gaze to their hands for a few moments as he laces their fingers together. When he finally raises his eyes again, Bucky’s still staring at him. There are so many things that Steve _wants_ to say, he just doesn’t know _how_.  
  
“Ya know, whatever you wanna say, you can just spit it out,” Bucky murmurs. Sometimes Steve forgets that, for all that he knows Bucky, Bucky knows him just as well.  
  
“Not that easy, Buck.”  
  
A warning flashes in those icy-blue eyes and it makes Steve’s breath hitch in his throat. He’s so used to calling him Buck that he kind of forgot Bucky’s confession from a few minutes ago. Before he can apologize, Bucky shakes his head, points out, “You’ve never had a problem talking to me.”  
  
“About most things, yeah, you’re right. But some things…” Steve trails off, sighs softly.  
  
“There’s nothing that you can’t say to me, Steve. Not after everything we’ve been through.”  
  
“I know that,” Steve replies quietly. Bucky snorts. “No, really, I do,” he insists. “It’s just… not easy.”  
  
“It can be,” Bucky shoots back, echoing Steve from earlier, shrugging his right shoulder.  
  
Steve never really was all that good with words and that sure as hell hasn’t changed. Instead of trying to fumble his way through an explanation, he reaches up, palms Bucky’s jaw and leans in, sliding their lips together. For a few heartbeats, Bucky stays perfectly still and Steve has just enough time to think that he’s messed things up between them, but then Bucky lets out another of those groans – and it once again shoots through Steve’s whole body – and kisses Steve back.  
  
Huh. Steve had no idea that his knees could go weak while sitting down.  
  
Bucky pulls his hand away and wraps his arm around Steve’s waist, presses closer as he deepens the kiss. Steve brings his free hand up to Bucky’s other cheek as well, gently cradling Bucky’s face as he gladly lets Bucky take the lead. He lets himself get lost in the slide of their lips and tongues, the feeling of Bucky’s body pressed against his own, the pulse of arousal coursing through him. It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt, different even from when they messed around before the war tore them apart.  
  
He makes a soft, unhappy noise in the back of his throat when Bucky pulls away. There’s a soft, fond smile curling up Bucky’s kiss-bruised lips and Steve groans to himself, tries to lean forward to chase after him. “Wait,” Bucky chuckles. Steve, reluctantly, stops. “Not complaining about the kissing at all, but that wasn’t an answer.”  
  
“There was a question?”  
  
“Yes,” Bucky huffs, rolling his eyes. He pulls his arm from around Steve, reaches up to palm Steve’s jaw. “I asked what was wrong.”  
  
“And I told you nothing.”  
  
“Which I’m gonna say was a bunch of bullshit,” Bucky counters. “So, spill.”  
  
“It’s stupid,” Steve mutters.  
  
“I doubt that. But even if it is, who cares? It’s just us, Steve.”  
  
Steve kind of wants to shy away from the sheer emotion in Bucky’s eyes but he can’t look away, caught up in those beautiful blue depths. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m nervous.” He shakes his head, drops his hands to Bucky’s waist, his fingers clenching in the soft fabric of his shirt. “I feel like a freaking kid again,” he adds quietly. “And I hate it…”  
  
“And?” Bucky urges when Steve trails off.  
  
Damnit. He really should know better by now.  
  
“And I’m afraid of messing up… Of disappointing you,” he confesses, barely above a whisper.  
  
“You could never,” Bucky murmurs, leans in and brushes an achingly soft kiss to Steve’s lips. “Not even if you tried.” He slides his hand back, fingers sinking into Steve’s hair. “And as for the rest… There’s nothing to be nervous about. I told you, it’s all up to you. Whatever you want.”  
  
“I want you,” Steve blurts out.  
  
“Aw hell, you’ve always had me, Steve.”  
  
“Yeah?” Steve whispers, still not able to believe that Bucky feels even a fraction of what he feels.  
  
“Of course,” Bucky replies easily, simply.  
  
Steve closes his eyes, tilts his head, his forehead resting against Bucky’s. “Okay,” he breathes.  
  
They sit like that for a few long moments, just holding each other, just breathing together. “You okay now?” Bucky eventually asks softly.  
  
“I’m good,” Steve replies quietly. He’s kind of surprised to realize that he really is good. Sure, he’s still kind of nervous – or really, _a lot_ nervous – but it’s not as overwhelming as it was before. “Thank you.”  
  
“You know you never have to thank me.”  
  
“I do,” Steve agrees. He pulls back just enough to look into Bucky’s eyes again. “But I wanted… needed to, this time.”  
  
Bucky merely nods in response, a soft, loving smile curling up his lips. For as strong as he is, Steve doesn’t have the strength to resist leaning in and tasting that smile. Bucky doesn’t hesitate at all this time, almost instantly pushing to deepen the kiss, his fingers curling into a loose fist in the back of Steve’s hair. Steve forces himself to let go of everything he’s been worried about, focuses solely on Bucky, the feel of his lips, the warmth of his body. He doesn’t even realize that he’s laying back, pulling Bucky with him, until he’s laid out across the bed, Bucky hovering over him, leaning on his arm. Bucky pulls away for a moment to look at Steve and he can see the questions, the concern, in Bucky’s eyes. He doesn’t want to talk anymore, doesn’t want to risk somehow screwing this up, doesn’t want there to be any space between them anymore.  
  
“Buck,” he breathes, this time knowing damn-well what he’s doing. That same look of warning flashes in Bucky’s darkening eyes and it makes Steve tremble. “Please, Buck…”  
  
Bucky lets out a sound pretty close to a growl – the sound burns through Steve, a soft, almost broken moan tearing from his throat – as he leans in, crashing their lips together in a nearly brutal, borderline desperate kiss. Steve melts into the soft mat beneath him, his arms sliding around Bucky, pulling him closer, his fingers curling into fists in the back of his shirt.  
  
Bucky breaks the kiss but doesn’t move away this time. Using the hold he still has on Steve’s hair, he tilts Steve’s head back, kissing along his jaw, down his throat then back up, lips brushing Steve’s ear, warm moist breath making Steve shiver. “Warned you about that,” he murmurs, his tone lower, deeper, than Steve has ever heard.  
  
“Mmhmm,” Steve hums in agreement, one hand sliding up Bucky’s back, into his hair. “Why d’ya think I did it?”  
  
“Punk,” Bucky murmurs fondly as he kisses his way back down Steve’s throat.  
  
Steve can feel the muscles along the left side of Bucky’s back flex, his heart breaking when Bucky huffs out an annoyed sound. Steve tightens his arms around Bucky, holds him close to his chest, as Bucky buries his face in the curve of Steve’s neck. “You’d think that I wouldn’t forget, ya know?” Steve closes his eyes and slides his hand up higher, tips of his fingers brushing against the loose scarf wrapped around Bucky’s neck, covering his shoulder. Bucky flinches but Steve can tell it’s not from pain. “Don’t, Steve,” Bucky whispers, trying to pull away.  
  
Steve tightens his hold, his fingers slipping beneath the scarf, lightly, carefully, traces over where scarred skin meets metal. “Does it hurt?” he asks softly.  
  
“No but it… Shuri brought me the prototype of the new arm she’s working on for me. Lemme grab it…”  
  
“It’s okay, Bucky.”  
  
“No, it really isn’t,” Bucky counters quietly. “’m missing a Goddamn arm, Steve.”  
  
“I know. And it’s okay,” he repeats. “Seriously. It doesn’t bother me. Arm, no arm, I love you just the way you are.”  
  
Steve _really_ didn’t mean to say that.  
  
Bucky pulls back enough to look at him, his brow furrowed a bit, eyes shiny, glimmering. Steve opens his lips, ready to apologize or try to play it off, _something_ , but before he can, Bucky dips down, kisses him slow and sweet.  
  
“I love you, too,” Bucky whispers against his lips. “God, Steve, _so much…_ ”  
  
Steve’s whole world kind of screeches to a halt for a few eternity-long seconds. He heard it, knows for a fact that he did, so hyper-aware of everything about Bucky at all times that there’s no way he could have missed it or misheard it, but it still seems unreal. All he’s wanted since he was that scrawny, sickly teenager was for Bucky to love him the same way that he loved Bucky.  
  
“Bucky…” he breathes, pulling away from the kiss to look up at his best friend.  
  
“Don’t even say it.”  
  
“Say what?”  
  
“That I don’t have to say that.” Bucky smiles, soft and fond. “I know I don’t. I said it ‘cause I meant it.”  
  
Steve is stuck for words again. So instead, he acts.  
  
He lifts his head, slanting their lips together, taking the lead for once, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping into Bucky’s mouth as his lips part on a gasp. After a few long moments, Steve surges forward, laying Bucky on his back. He pulls away just long enough to pull his shirt off then leans right back in, pushing impossibly closer to Bucky’s side as he kisses him again. Bucky drags the tips of his fingers up Steve’s arm, over his shoulder, down his back, the touch on his bare skin electric. He slides his own hand beneath the hem of Bucky’s shirt, fingers just barely brushing against his hip.  
  
“It’s okay, you can touch,” Bucky assures him softly, the words smeared against Steve’s lips.  
  
Steve presses his palm flat against Bucky’s side, his fingers curling around his waist, digging into warm flesh and firm muscle. He never got the chance to touch Bucky like this before and it’s a little terrifying yet amazing at the same time. Hell, he’s never touched _anyone_ like this and he suddenly wants more, can’t stand the idea of having anything between them.  
  
He slides his hand up Bucky’s side, over his ribs, then across his chest, presses his palm against Bucky’s heart. Even though he doesn’t want to end the kiss, Steve forces himself to pull away. He gets lost for a second in Bucky’s eyes, swears he can see everything he’s feeling reflecting right back at him. “You okay?” Bucky asks quietly.  
  
“Yeah, I’m good.” Steve licks his lips, a fresh shot of heat surging through his veins when Bucky’s gaze drops to his mouth for a split second before flickering back up to his. Steve can merely stare back at him, watching the look on his face, in his eyes, when Steve drags his hand down his chest, his stomach. “Can I take this off?” he murmurs, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice.  
  
Bucky hesitates, drops his gaze to Steve’s chest but not before Steve sees what looks a lot like insecurity flash in his eyes. “Steve…”  
  
Steve smiles sadly as he pulls his hand free from under Bucky’s shirt. Bucky’s eyes snap back up to Steve’s, his brow furrowed slightly. Steve reaches up and pushes the scarf around Bucky’s neck and left shoulder aside, then carefully moves the neck of his shirt to the side, exposing just a bit of scarred flesh where the metal is attached. He’s never actually seen it, just saw what was left after Tony ripped his arm off, before Bucky went back under. It makes his stomach turn, thinking about those bastards doing this to him.  
  
What he’s feeling must be showing on his face because Bucky’s whole body tenses and he squirms, his right hand pressing against Steve’s chest. Steve dips down, kisses where skin meets metal. “Steve,” Bucky repeats. “Don’t…”  
  
Steve doesn’t listen. Instead, he makes sure to kiss every inch of scarred flesh he can reach without having to move. Bucky’s fingers flex against Steve’s chest but he’s not putting any of the strength that Steve knows he has into it – Bucky could totally push him away if he really wanted to, Steve has no doubt about that; he’s fought the Winter Soldier enough to know. Eventually Bucky sighs softly, the tension slowly bleeding from his frame. Only then does Steve pull away, reaches up and cups Bucky’s jaw, his stubble tickling Steve’s palm. “I hate that they did this to you,” he murmurs. “ _That’s_ what I was thinking about.” He dips down, brushes a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I told you, I love you just the way you are, Buck. And you know I wouldn’t lie to you about that.”  
  
Bucky nods, presses his hand to Steve’s chest a little harder for just a second before he reaches up and pulls the scarf off, tossing it to the side, his gaze never wavering from Steve’s. He can’t help but smile, even as he leans down and kisses Bucky again.  
  
Steve keeps the kiss short despite the temptation to linger. He sits up when he pulls away, grabs the hem of Bucky’s shirt. “Lift up?” Steve damn-near whispers.  
  
Bucky nods again and does as Steve asked. Steve carefully pulls his shirt off, tosses it aside, his gaze sweeping over Bucky’s chest, down his stomach, unable to stop his fingers from tracing the same path, brushing against warm flesh and firm muscle. Bucky sits so perfectly still for a few moments, lets Steve look and touch, that it surprises Steve, makes him jerk a little, when he feels Bucky’s lips press briefly against his shoulder. Bucky’s smiling at him when he looks up, deep blue eyes soft, fond.  
  
Bucky is already bare foot so Steve takes a moment to take off his boots and socks. Once he’s done, he wraps his arms around Bucky and lays back again, pulling Bucky down with him, Bucky pressed against his side, their legs tangled together. Steve slides his hands down Bucky’s back, his muscles shifting beneath Steve’s touch as Bucky somehow presses impossibly closer, dips down and kisses Steve, slow, deep, passionate. The kiss leaves Steve weak, the slow burn of arousal that has been coursing through his whole body the entire time increasing, turning swiftly into a raging inferno. Steve moans into the slide of their lips and tongues, tightens his arms around Bucky, one hand sliding into his hair, fingers curling into a loose fist in the soft strands. Bucky echos the sound, his hips rolling forward just barely and Steve’s surprised to feel the half-hard length of him pressing against his thigh, the proof that Bucky is obviously enjoying this as much as he is makes Steve tremble, his own cock hardening even more.  
  
Without breaking the kiss, Steve tightens his hold even more and drags Bucky closer, spreads his legs, Bucky settling between his thighs. They’re pressed together from their chests down and Steve has just a moment to wish that he would’ve thought to take off the rest of their clothes before they ended up like this.  
  
To Steve’s disappointment, Bucky pulls away from the kiss, his weight braced on his arm next to Steve’s head, his fingers carding through Steve’s hair as he looks down at him. Steve reaches up, his fingers brushing along Bucky’s strong jaw, over his kiss-bruised lips. Bucky smiles and kisses the tips of his fingers, which of course makes Steve smile in return.  
  
“Are you okay?” Bucky asks softly.  
  
“Yeah, of course. Why?”  
  
“You’re shaking again.”  
  
“Pretty sure it’s more like… still,” Steve corrects. “But I really am okay.”  
  
“You’re sure?”  
  
“I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”  
  
Steve slides his hand over Bucky’s shoulder, down his spine, stops at the small of his back, tips of his fingers _just barely_ brushing the waist of Bucky’s pants. Bucky smirks at him, one eyebrow quirked. “Yeah?” he asks, his tone low, deep. Steve can merely nod.  
  
Bucky sits up so that he’s kneeling between Steve’s legs, reaches down to undo his pants. Before he can do it though, Steve sits up as well, one hand gently grabbing Bucky’s. “Can I?” he whispers.  
  
“If you want.”  
  
Steve nods, licks his lips, stares up into Bucky’s eyes as he blindly undoes the fly of Bucky’s pants, his hands shaking as his fingers brush against warm, soft skin. Bucky dips down and presses a quick kiss to his lips before crawling off the mat. When he stands up, his pants fall down around his thick, muscular thighs. Steve reaches out and grabs his hand, helping to steady him as he steps out of them, leaving him standing naked in front of Steve. He’s beautiful, firm muscles beneath soft, tan flesh, his broad chest tapering down to his lean hips. Steve honestly can’t look away.  
  
Bucky crawls back onto the mat but before he moves closer, Steve reaches down and undoes his own jeans, lifts his hips as he pushes them as well as his underwear down. Bucky helps him wiggle out of them then tosses them on the floor with the rest of their clothes. Steve automatically reaches out for Bucky, grabs his hand and pulls him back down so that he’s once again laying between Steve’s legs. He can’t quite bite back a breathy gasp as their bodies press together from their chests down, sweat-slick skin sliding together, muscles flexing as they move.  
  
“Buck,” Steve breathes, both hands sliding down Bucky’s back, his fingers digging in hard enough that he’s likely leaving behind bruises – definitely a perk of being with another super soldier, he doesn’t have to worry about holding back, curbing his strength, because he knows Bucky can take it.  
  
Bucky groans, dips down and crashes their lips together, his hips rolling against Steve’s, the slow drag of friction unlike anything Steve has ever felt. He writhes beneath Bucky’s weight, his back arching, trying to get impossibly closer. As much as Steve doesn’t want to end the kiss, doesn’t want Bucky to move, he can feel Bucky’s arm starting to shake a little, can practically feel the strain in his muscles.  
Forcing himself to pull away takes _a lot_ of strength but he manages, definitely more worried about Bucky than his own needs at the moment. “Are you okay?” Steve asks softly.  
  
“Of course, why?”  
  
Steve slides one hand down Bucky’s arm, can feel the tension in his muscles. He doesn’t have to say anything – which is great because he really wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it – can see the understanding in Bucky’s lust-dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers.  
  
“For what?”  
  
“I should’a put the arm on.” He licks his lips, sighs softly. “I can grab it…”  
  
“You don’t have to, unless you want to,” Steve interrupts gently. “If you don’t, we can move…”  
  
Bucky dips down and kisses Steve, slow and sweet. He can feel Bucky shaking even more, so, as much as he really doesn’t want to, he pulls away, flashing his best friend a smile. Thankfully, Bucky smiles back. “I’ll be right back,” Bucky murmurs.  
  
Steve lets him go, doesn’t try to argue or talk him out of it. He just hopes that Bucky believes him and isn’t doing this because he thinks that’s what Steve wants.  
  
Steve rolls over onto his side, his head resting on one hand as he watches Bucky cross the small hut, mesmerized by the shifting of firm muscle beneath tan skin. He’s so focused on staring that he doesn’t realize that Bucky has turned back toward him, arm already in place. Bucky smirks, one eyebrow quirked and Steve feels his cheeks heat at being caught.  
  
Bucky sits down on the edge of the mat, turned slightly toward Steve. His attention shifts from ogling Bucky’s muscles to his arm. He reaches out, fingers hovering over Bucky’s bicep, his eyes flickering up to Bucky’s in silent question. Bucky bites the corner of his bottom lip and nods, inhaling deeply, exhaling slowly when Steve’s fingers brush over his bicep, down his forearm to his hand. It’s weird how different this one is compared to the previous one; it’s sleeker, not as cold and it looks like it would be lighter. What’s even weirder is the quick burst of arousal that surges through Steve. He honestly hadn’t thought that he’d find it even remotely sexy.  
  
“Like I said, this is just the prototype,” Bucky says quietly. “Shuri has a few more tweaks to make. The finished one will be all vibranium, of course.” Steve curls his fingers around Bucky’s wrist, turns his hand over, kisses his palm. When he looks back up at Bucky, he’s smiling softly, fondly. “I asked her to make it not as strong as the other one,” Bucky adds, barely above a whisper.  
  
“Why?” Steve asks, just as softly.  
  
“So I’d be less likely to really hurt someone. And I’d be easier to stop of something goes wrong.”  
  
“Bucky…”  
  
“You don’t have to say it,” Bucky interrupts softly, shaking his head as he lets out a tiny huff of a chuckle. “Shuri already gave me shit about that. But it doesn’t really matter anyway. With my strength and it being vibranium… it’ll end up being just as strong, more than likely even stronger, no matter what I want.”  
  
“Can I ask you something?”  
  
“Have I ever been able to stop you?” Bucky teases.  
  
“No, not really,” Steve concedes.  
  
“Go on, ask away.”  
  
“If you have this one right now, why aren’t you wearing it?”  
  
“I do for some things. Mostly, though, all I’ve been doing is learning to take care of the animals and to work on the land, so I don’t really need two arms for that.”  
  
“I still don’t understand.”  
  
Bucky sighs, tilts his head down slightly, his gaze locked on where Steve is still running his fingers along Bucky’s hand, his wrist, up his arm. When a few long moments have passed and Bucky doesn’t answer, Steve looks up, surprised by the haunted look in Bucky’s eyes.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
Bucky clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “Even though it isn’t the same one, I can… sometimes all I can see is my fingers curled around someone’s neck or punching someone…” He pauses, brow furrowing even more. “I see myself hurting _you_ ,” he whispers, barely a sound.  
  
Steve sits up and wraps one arm around Bucky’s waist, leans in a presses a kiss to Bucky’s shoulder. He hopes that by touching it, kissing it and not shying away from it, that Bucky will see that Steve isn’t afraid of it, or of him, that he trusts and loves Bucky more than anyone. “That wasn’t you,” he murmurs. He’s lost track of how many times he’s said that but it doesn’t matter. He’ll say it every day, multiple times a day, if that’s what it takes, until Bucky finally believes him.  
  
Bucky sits back enough to pull away from Steve, reaches out and grabs him by the throat. Steve stares at him, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t try to get away. He can tell that this arm is definitely just a prototype, is nowhere near what it will be once Shuri is done tinkering, but with Bucky’s enhanced strength alone it could still cause quite a bit of pain if Bucky wants. Bucky tightens his fingers just slightly, staring into Steve’s eyes as well, brow furrowed, frowning. Steve leans forward just a bit, leans into the hand around his throat.  
  
“I trust you,” Steve says pointedly, soft but firm. “And I’m not afraid.”  
  
Bucky removes his hand, flexes his fingers once he’s dropped his arm. “Yeah, well, you never did know better, always so damn reckless.”  
  
“That has nothing to do with it,” Steve argues. “I’m not afraid because I know you and I trust you.”  
  
“Even though it’s not as strong right now, I still could’ve broken your neck, choked you.”  
  
“But I knew that you wouldn’t.” Steve once again slides his hand up Bucky’s arm, over his shoulder, down his back, leans in and brushes a quick, chaste kiss to Bucky’s lips. “C’mere,” he urges softly, presses his palm to the small of Bucky’s back.  
  
Bucky hesitates for a few moments then turns more toward Steve, his right hand slipping into Steve’s hair. Steve pulls Bucky with him as he lays back down. They end up on their sides, facing each other, their legs tangled together. Steve slides his arms around Bucky, wiggles closer until their chests are pressed together. Arousal surges through Steve again, making it so easy for him to get right back to where he was, holding on tight, moaning and writhing as Bucky kisses him again, heated, almost desperate. He’s – pleasantly – surprised to feel Bucky’s left hand on his waist – he honestly wasn’t sure whether or not Bucky would actually touch him with it. A strange time to be thinking it, sure, but Steve can’t help but wonder just how much Bucky can actually feel with that hand – now that’s he’s thinking about it, wonders how much he felt with the old one – if it’s the same as his right hand, and if it isn’t, if Shuri could do that. Maybe he’ll bring that up with Bucky as well as the Princess while he’s here.  
  
Right now though, he just wants to focus on being this close to Bucky, on the pleasure coursing through his entire body, just wants to lose himself in Bucky’s familiar scent, the taste of him on his tongue. Every sense feels like it is in overdrive and he’s hyper-aware of every move, every sound but at the same time it almost feels like he has no control over his own body at all, just pure instinct taking over, making up for his lack of experience. It’s all just so overwhelming and Steve can’t help but think if something simple like this feels so amazing he isn’t sure he’d survive actual sex.  
  
The thought of sex – not just sex but sex _with Bucky –_ sends a fresh, strong, surge of arousal through Steve’s entire body, heated blood rushing through his veins, his cock twitching against Bucky’s where they’re trapped between the press of their stomachs. He pulls away from the kiss with a breathless gasp, his arms tightening around Bucky, trying to pull him impossibly closer. It doesn’t work – they’re as close as possible – and Steve can’t stop the unhappy, frustrated noise he makes in the back of his throat.  
  
Bucky smiles, his fingers gently carding through Steve’s hair. “What’s wrong?” he asks softly.  
  
“Need… Need more,” Steve manages to rasp, despite the way his cheeks heat.  
  
Bucky licks his lips – Steve’s gaze automatically drops to Bucky’s kiss-bruised mouth, then snap back up to his heated, steel blue eyes – then dips down, gives Steve a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve is about to complain when Bucky pulls away completely – _that’s_ the last thing he wants – but before he can even open his mouth, Bucky’s left hand grips his hip and he gently pushes, urging Steve to roll onto his back. As soon as Steve is settled, Bucky crawls between his legs, their bodies pressed together from their chests down. Bucky is a warm, firm pleasant weight against Steve, his arms braced on the mat on either side of Steve’s head, their gazes locked as Bucky starts to roll his hips, sweat and pre-come easing the slide of their straining lengths rubbing together.  
  
Steve almost chokes on a surprised, broken moan, his fingers digging into the flexing, shifting muscles of Bucky’s back, his thighs tightening around Bucky’s lean hips. It takes a few moments but Steve is able to catch Bucky’s rhythm, his own hips rocking up, his whole body trembling as he rushes closer and closer to the razor-sharp edge of release.  
  
“Bucky,” he breathes, staring up at his best friend, unable to look away.  
  
“Feel good?” Bucky murmurs as he twists his hips, manages to pick up a bit more speed.  
  
If Steve could actually think of anything aside from _more_ and _Bucky_ , he’d make a smartass remark. But as it is, all he can do is moan, clinging to Bucky, unable to stop or slow down the rush of his orgasm. “Gonna… Buck, I can’t…”  
  
“It’s okay, do it. I got’cha, sweetheart.”  
  
In the end, it’s the endearment that gives him the final push.  
  
Steve cries out softly, his arms tightening around Bucky to the point that it has to at least be a little painful, every muscle shaking, his hips twisting as he writhes beneath Bucky, his cock jerking, pulsing, release smearing between their sweat-slick stomachs. Steve is still panting, body still twitching with aftershocks when Bucky groans, loses his rhythm, his muscles straining. It takes a few long seconds for Steve to notice Bucky’s cock jerking against his slowly softening length, to realize that Bucky just came as well. It makes his stomach twist pleasantly, warmth filling his chest. _He_ did that, being with _him_ brought Bucky pleasure. It’s a heady feeling.  
  
Bucky hums contently and pulls away just enough to settle next to Steve on the mat again. Steve turns onto his side and cuddles up against Bucky, despite the sweat and the mess, wiggles his way under Bucky’s arm. Bucky chuckles fondly and wraps his arm around Steve’s shoulders, not saying a work or trying to stop Steve from resting his head on Bucky’s chest. He closes his eyes, smiling when he feels Bucky kiss the top of his head. He turns his head just enough to press a kiss to Bucky’s chest, can feel his heart beating against his lips.  
  
There’s probably still a lot they should talk about, things to work out but it can all wait for later. He’s warm, safe, genuinely _happy_ and at peace, for the first time in _so_ long and he wants to hold on to that for as long as he possibly can. He’s pretty sure Bucky feels the same – if his completely relaxed body is any indication, he definitely does. They’ve earned a break, a bit of peace, after all they’ve been through.  
  
  
  



End file.
